


A God's Pity

by trainwhistlesatnight



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: (though not intentional), Agender Character, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Misgendering, Torture, ask to tag, hopeless ends up fine i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainwhistlesatnight/pseuds/trainwhistlesatnight
Summary: Hopeless has been kidnapped by Mevolent and Serpine, and left behind for dead after torture. Now they must return back to the Dead Men, but they are so tired..
Relationships: Hopeless/Erskine Ravel
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5
Collections: Skulduggery Pleasant Fic Exchange 2020





	A God's Pity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WintersCurse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintersCurse/gifts).



> Hi! I really really hope this fic is okay and not too angst heavy, and that you like it!  
> If you have questions or wanna talk about it, hmu! Love u Mav :D <3

"I want to play with him, my Lord, give him a taste of what he's been missing. I want to," Serpine shivered, a delighted electric spark going up his spine, "use him." His eyes gleamed with the light streaming in the windows, looking like beautiful emeralds. His teeth were too white.

Hopeless hated more than anything, how it seemed like Serpine got an orgasmic pleasure out of torturing his victims. Of course no one wanted to give their captors pleasure from it, but getting sexual pleasure just seemed wrong.

Of course, this was no concern of Nefarian's. His only concern was doing as told, as promised. Pleasing his Lord. Mevolent blinked slowly, a feline lazing in the sun, comfortable as can be. He tucked a lock of hair behind his left ear, raising a brow, "don't be long, Nefarian. I want to be done with him by the day's end. We’ve no reason to keep him and the death of one of theirs will break their morale. All the better so we spend less energy on the lot of them.” Nefarian nodded, eyes roaming over Hopeless’ body, in search of delicate skin reacting to the manacles they were in.

He reached a hand out, touching, tracing. It wasn’t like Hopeless could do much other than take it. They were so, so tired - so exhausted. The manacles cut off their magic. They hadn’t been properly eating for weeks. They couldn’t put up a fight even if they wanted to. 

Bodies do not understand to just give up when the one owning the body wants to. The instinct is to fight and react to everything until it no longer can. So, when Serpine’s fingertips tranced over a vein in the crook of their elbow, they flinched, however minutely. Serpine had very keen eyes, gripping there. 

“Is that sensitive, hm?” He pushed his thumb into a certain spot Hopeless knew the name of, but couldn’t grab it in the moment. “Does this hurt?” His thumbnail was sharp as he dug it in until the skin broke and Hopeless hissed and jerked in pain.

"Good.” His smile looked pleased, but not satisfied.

Serpine had decided some time ago, apparently, the most fun way to cause pain, aside from his red right hand, was to make sure the pain was drawn out for as long as it could be. And it was fun to make it pretty, in a way, but pretty was not a necessity. Something also told Hopeless he would talk during his torturing them, but he didn’t, really, he just got really quiet and into it. He made many many delicate little lines down Hopeless’ arm, starting with that tender flesh at the crook of the elbow, and down, down, down to the wrists, working in tally marks of five. That hurt a fair bit, Hopeless would admit, and sometimes they tried to yank away from the pain, tears dripping down their face. It would mess up Serpine’s concentration, though, and he’d get angry, and strike his sharp nails down all the marks in a quick motion, making Hopeless scream.

After a point, he got... bored. Normally he wouldn’t have, but today he had no time to make delicate pretty marks, and really his intention wasn’t to kill. Just to harm, and keep them harmed. Ruin their morale. Let them suffer and rot and die in all the pain Serpine thought they deserved. And luck, from whatever god may have been looking down on Hopeless in that moment, shone for a moment. Someone, not Mevolent, for he had already graced Serpine and ‘the filth’ with their presence once today, came in and told Nefarian to pack up his things. "General’s orders," they said. Serpine practically vibrated with glee. “Oh! You’ll get the option of starving to death, too!” he told Hopeless, settling a hand on their skin, that tender, thin skin he had started with. He raked his fingers down, nails catching and pulling strips of skin and pulling them with him. He frowned, flicking it away like dirt and Hopeless screamed and sobbed, blood weeping down their arm, worse than before. 

Nefarian did not even bid them a farewell as he left, leaving them to their crying and pain.

They stopped, eventually, as all who cry tend to do. Would they die? Of course they would, they were sure. They weren’t confident in any type of escape plan, especially now, for they had named themselves Hopeless for a reason. But which would happen first? Death by infection? Starvation? Dehydration? Perhaps some animals left in this place would find their way in and pick from their unfighting body, even though they weren’t dead. After all, fresh meat was always best, even in the wild. 

They kicked, struggled in their bonds. Something had to give, the chains, the wooden chair... themselves? Anger came quickly, screaming and struggling, pulling, kicking with all their might. The chair rocked and groaned and bucked in their struggles, it wasn’t like Nefarian was going to waste one of Mevolent's better chairs on someone- something that was going to be dead before the week was over. But it was lucky for Hopeless - so, so lucky. One of the legs snapped off with a crack like the sound of bone breaking. Hopeless thanked Gods they no longer believed in, made false promises to come back if they could just get out. They knew they wouldn’t go back.  
  
The Gods knew too.  
  
They helped anyway. Maybe they remembered their once so faithful follower. Maybe they just felt the situation was pitiful. Hopeless didn’t care.

They rocked, and kicked and pulled with a renewed fervor, and the other back leg broke off, and they fell back. At first their screech was of surprise, then victory, then pain.

One of the chains of their feet snapped. Hopeless decided it must be pity, why the gods helped them. They felt a terrible pain – one of their ankles had been wrenched out of its socket. Their head hit the ground so hard they blacked out for a moment, and a migraine they had never experienced the likes of before took over. They laid, and they waited. Tears trickling out of their eyes, the pain all so intense for a few moments, that it was like their nerves had shut off, and they couldn’t feel any of it. It didn’t make them feel better. Things faded away for a while.

They awoke, kicking without a second thought in their position. They screeched with the jolting pain in their out-of-socket ankle. Hopeless forced themselves to be very, very still then, clenching their jaw so tight they thought one of their teeth were going to chip. The arms of the chair had to be more fragile from that fall, they had to be. It took maneuvering, and so much pain from jostling their foot, but they got their arms in such a way that they would push on the armrests outward. Elbows in and close, they gripped tight to what they could of the rests, and they pushed.

A crack, the wood splintered. They had to stop for a while, they were so tired. They were so hungry. Everything hurt. Their migraine was coming back. Push again, push harder, God dammit if they were going to die it would not be _here_ -

**_CRACK!_ **

The arms of the chair broke off, jerking as what was still attached to the chain of their binds was forced to come back. Hopeless was strong, but not that strong. Their ankle was throbbing, and it made them clench their teeth harder and finally a tooth did chip.

Great, wonderful. Dislocated ankle, bloody and battered and cut up, and a stupid fucking chipped tooth. That’s how someone would find their body, if anyone ever did. Maybe they’d fucking rot and waste away, even their skeleton, and someone would just find a crumbled building and a dusty pile and the warped remains of a chair. Great, great, great.

They pushed on the other side, determined to make that thought go away. It didn’t, but their rage fueled them, pushing away. Splintered. Cracking- **_SNAP!_**

Freedom. It was so close Hopeless could have cried. They twisted, heaving panting breaths as everything burned and throbbed in pain. They turned on their side just enough to push the remains of the chair away enough for them to sit up. So far, so good. They spit out the chipped piece of tooth, throwing it away from them. There was a raised piece of the metal, a half loop where the other links of the chain to their dislocated foot connected. It was just as rusted as the other. Maybe Serpine didn’t expect them to put up a fight? Maybe he did, and this was a part of some further plan. Maybe he just didn’t care. No time to dwell on it now.

They put their good foot against that half hoop on the floor for leverage, grabbed just above the most rusted and weakest point in the chains, and pulled. It bent at first, and their foot jostled, their other slipping off the hoop and they screeched. It was so much, it was too much, and they furiously wiped away tears from frustration and pain. Reset themselves, and pulled again, hearing the groaning of the metal links. They just needed them to break or the little gap to come further apart- please, please, God please-

A sick groan, a _SNAP_ and a clank. The hoop had broken off. They pushed themselves away from it and started to cry. They screamed and cried, and didn’t care because no one would hear them or bother to check on them. But they were free, they were finally out of that, and everything would get better from there. It would. It had to.

They got on their hands and knees, and cried, and crawled to the door. The tears wouldn’t stop for a long time, their ankle throbbing, until finally the pain was so overwhelming again that it cut off entirely. There was so much adrenaline in their blood, there was too much to do, they couldn’t stop now when they were so, so close-

Hopeless groped for the doorknob, working it open. It wasn’t locked. They crawled out of the room, their arms so weak. The wound was steadily reopening, beginning to bleed again. It dripped down their arm, onto the ground, staining their hands and the floor. But, the blood meant they were alive for now, and it kept them going.

Everyone from Mevolent’s camp had evacuated however long ago, and were long gone without sparing a glance back at the base. They found an opening, a door or something of a sort, and pushed it open, and crawled out.

It was snowing, because it was, what? December? January? How long had they been away? The snow was light, but no less cold, and Hopeless was so, so very tired...

They crawled anyway, the chill numbing most of their body so the ankle was a dull throb instead of the searing pain it was previously. They didn't think more about where they were going, just. Somewhere. They tried to remember where the nearest town was... West? West. It had to be West.

And that's what they did for a long time, thinking 'west' and crawling, dragging their numb body across the snowy land. They saw a thin stream of smoke coming from the direction they were heading, and could have sobbed with relief had they had more water in them. They kept crawling, and crawling and crawling, till they were so exhausted that things faded again.

* * *

"I just thought I heard something in the forest!"

"A wild animal you don't need to be chasing after, most likely. Come back here, Larrikin." Larrikin waved a hand flippantly in Anton's direction.

"If it is, I'll teleport back."

"And if a mortal sees you? What then?" Anton stood firm at the edge of the forest as Larrikin turned, walking backwards further in.

"Well... who will believe them?" 

"Th-" but Anton was too late, Larrikin had grinned and teleported further in so he was just a dot to Anton's eyes, and certainly far enough he couldn't hear Anton's reply.

Maybe it was because Larrikin was lucky, or maybe it was the god’s pity from earlier. Maybe it was just because whatever gods there were had planned for a different death for Hopeless. Whatever it was, Larrikin saw a bloody lump in the snow and ran over to it. It was probably an animal that had been killed, but something jumped out at him about it- a hope for the hopeless.

It’s a funny thing, that.

There was a rush of events that Hopeless wasn’t conscious for. When they woke, there was a lot of pain, something in their foot that made them scream briefly before being put back to sleep. When they were allowed to come back to and stay that way, the familiar pale tan canvas of the medical tent greeted them. They made it back? Or had they been found? Or-

They tried to call out, answer at least some of their questions, but all it got them was a reminder of exactly how dry and sore their throat was frm the screaming and lack of water in their torture. They landed in a coughing fit that made them feel like they were going to throw up - not that there was anything _to_ throw up. Nonetheless, their coughing had alerted someone outside, 

“I think they’re awake-!”

“People can cough in their sleep, let them rest-”

“It can’t hurt to check!” and then Larrikin was lifting one of the flaps of the tent, smile more a grimace as he prepared himself for the sight of Hopeless still asleep. 

“Oh! Oh shit you’re awake! Oh my gods!” He rushed over to Hopeless, seeing their eyes squinting in the light, but open. He managed to stop himself before barreling into Hopeless and overturning the bed. They smiled as he took their hand, rubbing it to try and warm them up. They had several blankets, but somehow they still felt cold. It didn’t take long, Larrikin being essentially a human heater, and he babbled on about what had happened since they had been gone. 

It wasn't long, only a moment or two, before the tent flaps were pushed aside and Kenspeckle interrupted them. He was grumbling to himself, but he stopped when he saw them.

“How do you feel?” He asked curtly, pushing past Larrikin to use his stethoscope and listen to their heartbeat. Hopeless shivered, they had always hated the cold metal of that thing. 

"Psh," Hopeless scoffed. "Bad."

"Be more specific," Kenspeckle grunted. "I'd be more damn worried if you didn't feel bad in some way." He listened to their breathing. "Your breathing is staggered and raspy. Did he puncture your lungs in any way?"

"Not as far as I remember, the whole place was damn dusty though, it was clear they didn't plan on staying for long. Had to leave in the middle of torturing me." Hopeless told Kenspeckle, voice bored and distant, trying to push away from being affected by the memory as they were given their checkup. Larrikin whimpered quietly in sympathy in the background, tentatively grabbing Hopeless' hand to ground them again. They smiled at him in thanks.

The check up continued and while Hopeless certainly had a while to go in recovery, they were allowed to rest again. Larrik spoke a bit more with them after Kenspeckle left, then decided to tell the good news that they were awake. "If Ersk's back then I'll let him know so he can come see you, yeah?" he said as he wandered out.

* * *

Hopeless laid back in the bed, pulling the covers up as much as they could, which really wasn't much with their weak arms. There was talking outside, but Hopeless didn't really process much of it, as tired as they were. They drifted in and out of sleep, only waking up when they felt the covers being tucked up around them. "Hmm..?"

Erskine was fuzzy in their sleepy eyes, but they'd recognize his smile anywhere. "Go back to sleep, Hopeless, you need your rest." He seemed so relieved. He was so relieved. He had been so scared Hopeless wouldn't come back, or if they did they wouldn't remember him or - Or, or, or... But here Hopeless was, relatively safe and sound, and that's all Erskine could have asked for, really.

"Missed you..." Hopeless mumbled, closing their eyes. 

Ravel took hold of one of their hands, kissing their knuckles. "Missed you, too. Get some rest." They nodded vaguely, and soon their breathing evened out. 


End file.
